Metamorphosis
by GloriaNewt
Summary: This fic is set in Constance's first days at Cackles, and documents her struggle with trying to leave the evil presence of Hecketty Broomhead behind her, showing a time when she was a very different witch from the respected authoritarian that she became..


**Authors Note: This fic is set in Constance's first days at Cackles, and documents her struggle with trying to leave the evil presence of Hecketty Broomhead behind her, showing a time when she was a very different witch from the respected authoritarian that she eventually became. Will she ever find peace, and what lengths will she go to? My thanks must go once again to the lovely LongVodka who has been so supportive and helpful-thank you!**

**Reviews much appreciated!**

"Today is the new beginning to the rest of my life" the tall, willowy young woman of around twenty years of age told herself firmly, as she stepped nervously on the raised platform in the Great Hall of Cackles Academy for the first time, her slender fingers trembling with trepidation as Amelia Cackle recited her traditional, lengthy speech, welcoming the young witches back to school after their summer break, the rambling train of words washing over everyone in the crowded room, except the new first years who were listening attentively to every syllable that was uttered, hanging onto every word, desperate to avoid making a bad start to their first-ever term at witch school.

"…and finally girls, allow me to introduce our new member of staff, Miss Hardbroom, who will be taking over the teaching of potions classes following the regrettable demise of Mistress Baneberry"

Constance jolted back to her senses from her daydream as the assembled students droned back a greeting in the customary dull monotone.

"Good morning Miss Hardbroom"

She managed a faint smile as she surveyed the sea of black capes and pointed hats in front of her, each emblazoned with the school crest of a black cat sitting upon a yellow half-moon, the single word of the school motto written underneath the eye-catching logo. Strive. And that was exactly what she intended to do, seize this chance at a fresh start with both hands and attempt to finally move on from the horrors of her tragic past.

She knew that she could not afford to let the fragile mask to slip, to allow her raw emotions to be exposed, dredging up all of the bitter memories of the nightmarish years spent under Hecketty Broomhead. She had escaped barely alive, clinging on to life with a weakening grip until that grey-haired guardian angel Amelia Cackle had found her and saved her from her fate. She now had to look to her future, which was blazing brighter than it had in the two decades that she had spent on earth.

"...and now let us close with a rousing rendition of our school song, "Onwards, Ever Striving Onwards", thank you, Miss Bat."

Amelia's firm, but gentle voice rang through the lofty room, prompting Miss Bat to scurry to the dusty harmonium to play the introduction, almost tripping over the trailing hem of her black robes in her haste, prompting a faint ripple of laughter from the students. Miss Cackle turned to Constance and gave her a reassuring smile, a faint twinkle present in her sky-blue eyes as the school launched into the ancient chant, welcoming her into the fold.

Constance, steadied by this small expression of kindness opened her mouth and began to sing, her clear voice articulating the inspiring words that she had taken the trouble to learn by heart the previous night. A faint burst of hope was filling her from head to toe, coating her in its warmth, finally feeling as if she belonged, accepted for who she was. Everything was going to be alright.

Xxx

She was determined that her first day would pass without incident as she strode purposefully into the potions lab, her appearance impeccable from the immaculate bun perched directly on top of her head to the shining, well-polished black leather boots that she wore on her feet, her impending presence announced only by the faint swish of material from her full-length dress.

She turned to her assembled second-years, addressing them with a polite, "Good morning girls!"

She knew from inspecting their previous year's work that they were a promising bunch of bright young witches, and was looking forward to sharing her vast knowledge with them. Teaching was one of the only things that had made her life bearable, the joy of imparting understanding to others, the satisfaction of sowing the seeds of an idea into a fertile young mind, free to blossom and grow into their own, individual opinions.

She turned her attention to the blackboard behind her, pointing her index and little fingers at the surface, conjuring the list of ingredients written in her own elongated, sloping italics onto the board with a faint puff of white, chalky smoke. Another flex of the bony fingers and blazing miniature fires sprang to life underneath the collection of black cauldrons. She blew the faint wisps of smoke away from her fingertips, smiling at the looks of awe on the faces of her new students. She had always enjoyed the feeling of her magic dancing around her fingers, the glowing surge as her powers were unleashed, which was to her, the feeling that constituted the definition of being alive.

Her low voice was edged with a glimmer of growing confidence as she patrolled the class, observing their attempts at brewing Hiccoughing Potion, praising those who were following the tricky method correctly, gently steering other, less able members of the class away from impending disasters. What she heard next made her jump in fright, shattering her carefully collected, calm composure.

"Constance!" a sharp whisper came from nowhere.

She wheeled around, trying to find the culprit who had broken the traditional student-teacher code of practise and uttered her first name.

"Who said that?" she demanded anxiously, circling around frantically, her breathing becoming ragged.

The class were staring at her curiously, not one of them had opened their mouths for that past five minutes, due to the feverish concentration that was required to concoct the tricky potion.

"Who said that!" she shouted, feeling her legs giving way forcing her into gripping tightly onto the edge of the wooden desk with her violently trembling hands. An idea to the identity of the disembodied voice was dawning slowly in her reeling mind.

"Constance!" the evil voice chuckled malevolently, "when will you ever learn..."

She was shaking in fear as realisation hit her like a sledge hammer.

"Leave me in peace!" she whimpered, the words catching in her throat, her hazel eyes wide and staring as she fell to the stone floor.

"For now…"breathed the silky voice in her ear, "but not forever…"

By now the entire class were on their feet, surrounding the shivering heap that was their new teacher. Her perfect bun was unwinding, spreading wild tendrils of disobedient hair across her tear-stained face, her eyes still glassy and unreactive, gasped apologies and prayers for mercy falling in a jumbled, incoherent mess from her dark lips. Looking much younger than her mere twenty years, she sat in a child-like sobbing heap with her hands clamped tightly over her shell-like ears, oblivious to the frantic questioning of her students. The shame and indignity of being seen at her most vulnerable overwhelmed her along with the painful disappointment of failure; the biting reality that she was still not ready for this final step drove her into staggering frantically to her feet and vanishing into thin air.

The second years stared in disbelief at the empty space where there teacher had been moments earlier.

"Where did she go?"

"What happened to her?"

A flurry of whispers broke out, attracting the attention of Amelia Cackle who was walking past the potions lab. She peered through the leaded glass of the window, curious to see how her new employee was managing in her first class. Her eyes were greeted with the sight of a huddle of whispering pupils, but no Constance? She pushed open the wooden door and the room immediately fell silent at the arrival of the Headmistress.

"Where is Miss Hardbroom, girls?" she enquired worriedly.

A volley of noise broke out as every girl fought to have their version of events listened to, fragmented segments of phrases revealed the story to Amelia, albeit in a rather haphazard fashion.

"Suddenly started screaming!"

"Shouting "who said that?" to us"

"Hearing things"

"Collapsed!"

"Crying!"

"Shaking!"

"Vanished into thin air!"

The damning adjectives kept flowing as the tale of events unfolded.

"Alright girls!" shouted Amelia, raising her voice over the deafening din of twelve conflicting accounts.

"I am certain that Miss Hardbroom must have been suddenly taken ill and will be resting for the remainder of the morning. May I ask you to show patience and respect to her at all times, especially as she is in a rather frail state of health at the moment. I shall take over your class until the end of the lesson. Please continue with your potions."

She walked up to the desk at the front of the class and sat down heavily on the wooden stool, worried thoughts chasing hectically around her burdened mind, waiting desperately for the bell to signal the end of the lesson.

Xxx

Constance materialised on top of the purple satin duvet of her bed, tears trickling off her face, soaking into the pillow beneath her, sobs shaking her narrow form. Was she ever to escape from that demonic woman!

She had been lying there for some time when a quiet but persistent knock came at her door.

"Constance," Amelia's soft tones carried into the room, "Constance, can I come in?"

A rattle came as she tried the door and found it locked. Another of Constance's barriers to overcome.

Without looking up, Constance raised her arm and shot sparks at the door, leaving it to swing open gently to allow Amelia in. Amelia took one look at the uncommunicative witch and immediately sat on the edge of the bed.

"Oh, Constance," she whispered, her elderly hand knotted with the blue-green veins that protruded from the aged surface, circled gently, stroking the narrow back of the woman through the thin satin of the oriental patterned gown as she was crying in utter despair into her pillow. It pained her to see anybody upset, but her maternal instincts were screaming at her to protect this damaged, frail woman from any further harm. She could see past the scarred layers that clung to the intelligent, determined young woman who lay beneath, the young witch who was still fighting the raging demons trapped in her mind.

"Shhh, don't cry," she tried frantically to reassure her, but the sight of the stricken witch pulled on her heartstrings so hard that she felt tears escaping from her eyes of their own accord, burning down her lined cheeks as she felt the intense pain radiating from the other woman. She pulled her into a tight hug, gently smoothing the wayward dark curls, combing her fingers through the tangled mess, like a mother soothing her child after a particularly vivid nightmare. She could feel the heart of the other woman fluttering in her bony chest, like a caged bird fighting to escape from its prison. Constance's battle was far from over. All she could do was try to nurse the fragile woman back to health by pouring her undivided love and care into her in a bid to fill the dark chasms that had been gouged out of her soul. She would have a home at Cackle's for as long as she wanted one.

She reached inside her charcoal grey cardigan, fishing a small vial out of her pocket.

"Here, this is a mild sedative."

Constance looked up at her, her dark eyes narrowing in mistrust as she surveyed the colourless solution in the crystal flask, shaking her head, summoning all of her remaining strength to close her hand weakly around Amelia's wrist.

"Please take it Constance; you need to try to get some rest".

"As you wish, Headmistress" she whispered faintly, too tired to protest further, allowing Amelia to gently rest the glass container against her lips, draining the clear mixture into her open mouth.

"Sleep well, Constance" murmured Amelia as she watched the breathing of the other witch steady itself into a regular rise and fall pattern of long, deep breaths, her eyelids closing as she fell into unconsciousness, completely exhausted-physically, emotionally and mentally in the aftermaths of her morning's ordeal. Moving gently so as to avoid disturbing the sleeping woman in front of her, she carefully tucked her in, placing a warm, fleecy blanket over her to keep the cold at bay before tiptoeing out of the room.

Xxx

Alicia Thunderblast, the deputy head of Cackles Academy snorted derisively from over the top of her blue porcelain tea-cup.

"Come on Davina," she said, disagreeing as ever with the temperamental chanting teacher, "I tell you, she's no good. Just hasn't the emotional stability to teach a class of teenage girls!"

"Poor Constance is finding it hard enough to settle in without the addition of your scathing opinions, Alicia!" argued Davina Bat. "She needs all the co-operation that she can get from us in this difficult time!"

"She's just not up to the job! The girls need a firm hand otherwise they walk all over you! Look at that incident with Penelope Storm and the exploding cauldron the other day- the little madam knew exactly what she was doing when she added the extra spiders' eggs, but our new recruit broke down completely-again! You leave your emotional baggage behind you when you enter teaching!" she retorted, climbing out of her comfortable armchair by the roaring fire.

"Still…" the grey-haired witch picked up a letter from the side, peering through her half-moon spectacles that were always attached to the long silver chain around her scraggy neck at the elaborate handwriting, "…looks as if I'm not going to be around to witness this accident-waiting-to-happen unfold. I've been chosen to replace Hilary Hexmaster as the new head of Weirdsister College! Back to the old alma mater again!" she smiled triumphantly.

"Congratulations, Alicia!" said Frances Gimlet who had just arrived, "a prestigious honour indeed!"

"Thank you, Frances!-of course it would mean promotion for you?" smiled Alicia happily, delighted that she had finally progressed from the very much second-division academy to the appointment in the lofty heights of magical academia that she had been seeking ever since she had graduated.

"I must inform Amelia at once!" she made to leave. "Mark my words Davina, I would stake my entire terms salary that she leaves before I do!"

"Is that true, Alicia?" replied Frances, a rebellious twinkle present in her grey eyes, "well, I think she'll stick it out until Christmas!"

"Not a chance my dear Frances!" chortled Alicia smugly.

"Well, I would be prepared to bet **my **salary that she stays, until the end of term anyway!"

"Do I detect that we have a wager on our hands, Frances?" asked Alicia slyly.

"We do indeed, Alicia" grinned Frances, reaching out to shake her competitors hand to seal the agreement with a shower of red sparks.

"Stop it! Stop it!" shrieked Davina, "It's sickening the way you two are ganging up on her, ready to swoop on her like a… ,like a.., a pair of vultures!" and with that she ran to her beloved stationary cupboard, slamming the door with a loud, hysterical shriek.

"See what I mean about the emotionally unstable..." muttered Alicia as she swept from the room.

Frances smiled to herself as she helped herself to a steaming cup of tea. She would miss the outspoken old witch when she left for Weirdsister, but her abilities really were going to waste at Cackles. Deputy headmistress at last! She was certain that getting Amelia to confirm it would merely be a formality; it wasn't as if she hadn't earned it after ten years devoted service to Cackles!

Xxx

Standing in front of the ornate, silver, Victorian-style, full length mirror, she loosened the long row of small buttons on her full length black satin dress, with practised ease, allowing gravity to pull the garment down to the floor, skimming her emaciated shoulders and hips, surveying the mass of silver-threaded scars with a critical eye, every bone in her skeletal body protruding, stretching the alabaster skin to its limit, a translucent layer, barely masking her beating heart. Not a space left untouched by that woman's cruelty. She loosened the tight, restricting bun, allowing the long dark curls to cascade over her, creating a stark contrast with her milky skin and the dark shadows in the hollows of her gaunt face. Tears fell down her cheeks as she surveyed the helpless wreck that she had become, she didn't recognise the hunched, weeping woman who stared back at her in disbelief, the pitiful, naked, lifeless vessel, devoid of even the faintest sparks of life. She sank to the floor, weakened by what her tired eyes were showing her, hardly wincing as the icy stone floor made contact with her bare flesh, her external senses all but numb ,rocking gently, backwards and forwards, trying to feel her mother's comforting embrace, smell her sweet, musky scent, straining to hear her soft voice whispering that it was all just a bad dream, to have her stinging, salty tears wiped away from her cold face , to be reassured that it was all going to be alright. The dull, burning ache inside her told her otherwise.

There was nobody left to understand. Nobody left to rescue her from her eternal damnation. She had reached the summit of her torture now, knowing that there was no escape from the lofty peak where she was stranded. A lost soul awaiting her rescuer who never came for her. Abandoned, left to seek out the peace that evaded her all of her tortured life. Perhaps there was a better place waiting for her, perhaps she would be free, if she were to die, to submit to the overwhelming presence of Broomhead, to surrender to the crushing pain, free to walk alongside her parents again, to escape this dark hell that she had been trapped in for so, so long, to be brave enough to take the plummeting leap into that rocky abyss that waited mercilessly below.

She picked up the crystal bottle, staring at the glistening contents- could they save her from the unbearable blackness, provide some way out for her from the twisted labyrinth of her rotting mind that was decaying underneath the tainted presence of Hecketty, allow her the final dignity of escape before even the faintest chink of light, the smallest piece of hope could be consumed by the monster that lurked within her, casting her into the barren landscape of death? The pale green extract of hemlock twinkled in the light, her guiding star to salvation perhaps? With shaking hands she removed the crumbling cork from the mouth of the bottle and raised it in a final toast of farewell.

Farwell to the madness, the torturous presence of her past, the loneliness that she had been subjected to all of her adult life, the loneliness that she had tried to stifle with academia, to feed with the knowledge that however bitter her existence that she had a purpose, to mould the magical minds of the future. Even that promise had lost its edge. She raised the bottle to brush against her dark lips. "Here's to peace," she whispered quietly…

A sharp spasm from her wrist caused her to fling the glass vial across the room, breaking into smithereens when it made contact with the unforgiving stone wall. Pain surged through her body as the dismembered voice screamed in her ears.

"Death is no way out for you Constance Hardbroom!" She could feel her jaw moving, vibrations present in her aching, dry throat as she realised that it was her voice that was shouting the ominous threats and curses, acting as the physical amplifier for Hecketty's enraged presence. She screamed as she stared into the mirror, transfixed at the sight of the face staring back at her. She raised her shaking hands to her face, running them over the smooth skin, as did the reflection. However, the face that was reflected above her broken body wasn't hers. The wrinkled, twisted face of Hecketty Broomhead started back at her.

"A far too honourable path for you!" she could feel her bony hands raising into the air, against her will, then being diverted by the evil puppeteer that looked out through her hazel eyes, guiding them gently to rest around the soft tissues of her throat, squeezing, harder and harder, gasping for mercy as she was throttled by her own disloyal hands.

"Only I choose when that glorious moment arrives!" the evil voice hissed from between her terrified lips, the grip loosening just before she lost consciousness.

xxx

Following the destructive reappearance of Hecketty in her mind, Constance had drifted around in a daze, desperately trying to supress the tidal wave of memories back into their lead-lined box with the aid of increasing amounts of Sedative Potion, stumbling around in a bleary haze as the fragile lines before reality and fantasy, sanity and madness distorted in front of her very eyes, neither waking nor sleeping, existing purely in a living nightmare with the evil voice ringing in her ears and thoughts, not a shred of privacy to herself, forced to relived every moment of the hell that she thought that she had escaped, in full, vivid detail, hearing her own screams being constantly replayed at an ear-splitting volume. By day barely managing to front her classes, by night the torturous existence turning her into the ghostly figure that stalked the corridors at night, neither seeing nor believing what her warped senses were telling her as she sleepwalked from one destination to the next.

It was on a wet, cold night that Amelia Cackle had abandoned all thought of sleep, deciding to go to her emergency collection of cheesecake that was reserved in a locked draw in her office. She pulled her cosy dressing gown around her tightly; frowning as the stitching in the worn seams creaked, protesting loudly under the strain. She set off down the main stairs to the delicious midnight feast that awaited her.

The main doors flew open, a huge gust of blustery wind whistled into the castle as a tall, dark haired woman dressed in a thin, purple silk nightdress, that was edged with white lace came gliding through, stumbling over the threshold, soaked to the skin, little droplets of clear, freezing water rolling down her pale flesh. Her bare feet and hands were caked in dirt, suggesting that she had fallen repeatedly on her perilous journey. Cuts and scars, old and new littered her arms, thin trickles of blood running in rivers down her limbs. She stared straight ahead with her wild, possessed eyes as she paced slowly along, leaving a muddy trail behind her on the grey, stone floor.

Amelia gasped at the sight of the spectre-like woman. Constance!

She followed quietly in her shadow to the chosen destination of the potions lab. She ran up and touched her colleague on the shoulder, trying desperately to communicate with her, pleading with her to wake with all of her heart.

As soon as she felt the fingers make contact with her, Constance screamed as she felt the wrath of Broomhead descend on her again, indescribable pain shooting through her. She staggered in her delirium towards the potions cabinet, fighting the unseen demons for control of her mind. She clasped a bottle of the Sedative and threw it viciously to the floor watching on as it shattered into a thousand pieces.

"What use are they now! What use are they!" she screamed in her anguish as she swept the contents of the shelves to the floor, a shower of glass shards flying everywhere, glistening as a spectrum of colours rippled through them when they came into contact with the wavering candlelight. "Not even the potions can shut her out!" Sparks began to fly as the volatile ingredients combined with each other from the river of potion on the floor, neutralising each other's potent effects.

The woman collapsed into a sobbing heap on the floor, tearing at her long ebony hair in her torment. Screaming and shouting, on her knees, broken glass from the smashed bottles becoming ground into her flesh, she managed to snatch a moment's sanity from her lunatic ramblings, a minor victory won over Hecketty, her strength to fight being sapped away from her.

"Save me, Amelia" she gasped, pleading with the elderly witch before the blankness returned to her eyes. She curled up in a foetal position on the wooden boards, her body shaking, her matted, soaking hair plastered flat to her head, surrendering once again to the darkness within.

Amelia could sense the evil presence that was lurking within Constance. Reacting instinctively, she reached forward tenderly, pulling the shaking woman into a sitting position and placing her forehead against the frozen brow of the woman in front of her, her warm fingertips pulling them close, sharing a mental bond, allowing the natural flow of many powerful enchantments that enclosed them in a bright cage of light to erupt from her in a burst of light, a rainbow of shades forming from the multitude of spells she was casting subconsciously in her quest to save the young woman, desperately using her own strength combined with Constance's ebbing powers to fight the demonic intruder that was Hecketty Broomhead.

She knew that her time was limited before Constance fell from her narrow, ever-crumbling precipice of sanity into the irretrievable depths of madness that would seal her fate, leaving Hecketty free to claim the broken mind as her own. She drew upon all the reserves of love and kindness that she possessed within her, all of the care and attention that she would have lavished upon her children, had she ever been lucky enough to conceive and bear offspring of her own, a force of unequalled intensity bursting forth from her, a resonance of such magnitude from the strongest of all emotional attachments that succeeded in breaking down the dark defences that Hecketty had put in place, the emblematic fortress wall disintegrating in her commanding wake, leaving Amelia shuddering as she faced the onslaught of malevolent powers that were turned on her as the magical battle of wills began. She found herself reaching out through the metaphorical wilderness to the stranded woman, clinging onto her, refusing to let her go from her hold, reminding her of the unbreakable compassion that existed inside her soul, a deep affection for everything, for life, for justice, for her treasured companions, it was as if she had Hecketty by the throat, overwhelming every single particle of the powerful witch with the emotion that the bitter woman had never experienced in her life.

Love.

Hecketty may have the power to destroy, but her ability to ruin was incomparable to the restorative compassion that flowed through Amelia's veins. Her omnibenevolent qualities were forcing the intruder to her knees, crumpling before the mighty force before her, dissolving into nothingness as the powerful magical presence evicted her forcefully from the mind that she had inhabited, still trying to carry out the vengeful acts that she had been dreaming of as she was now expelled into the cold reality that awaited her. Floating in the stark emptiness of time and space she unwillingly relinquished her death-grip on the mind of the young woman, her cursed protégé. There would be another time to seek her destruction. Constance could wait for her Judgement Day.

Still brow to brow with her fellow member of staff, Amelia opened her eyes and stared in delight at the sparkle of life that was finally dancing again in the hazel eyes in front of her, glowing as if the crushing weight of the entire world had been lifted from behind them. Safe at last.

"She's gone…" she soothed gently.

Constance looked directly at her, "How did you know who she was?" she breathed in reverence as she surveyed her saviour.

Amelia sighed softly, reluctantly offering up a piece of information that went some way towards explaining the situation. "Constance, you are not the first, and certainly won't be the last to have been trapped in the mental restraints of Hecketty Broomhead. Let's just say that you aren't the only witch that I have encountered who experienced her vile methods…"

Constance looked back in astonishment as she saw the faintest of tears well in the sky-blue eyes in front of her.

"Headmistress I don't understand…"

"Now is not the time for questions, Constance," replied Amelia sadly, touching her on the arm lightly, "there are some paths that are always best left unexplored…"

Xxx

It was a different Constance who returned to her chamber that night. She washed herself in the freezing water of her bathroom, feeling the cleansing drops removing the dirt from her skin, washing away the heavy presence that had been hanging over her head since she had arrived at Cackles, a liberating freedom running through her as she finally felt the acceptance that she had spent her life craving.

But, she reflected silently to herself, wrapping a soft, fluffy white towel around her thin body as she stepped from the roll-top bath, feeling its soft touch against her icy skin, if she were to continue here, her stupid emotions would have to be contained. Whenever she tried to face her past, her future fell away from her. As Amelia had said, there were things that were better left unsaid, unexplored to avoid the pain that was attached to them, and she decided that her childhood was one of them. Sacrifices had to be made in life to move on, and she would embrace the qualities of order, control and respect that Hecketty Broomhead had always tried to embed in her if it meant that she could leave her past by the wayside. But, she resolved, she would never allow the bitterness to seep through her soul, corrupting her mind and destroying her from within. Never would a girl in her care come to harm or be subjected to the dark tortures that she was. Like a phoenix rising from the smouldering ashes of her past life, she finally felt ready to accept what lay ahead of her, never looking back over her shoulder.

Xxx

The third years were creating havoc as they awaited the arrival of the nervous teacher that they had grown to disrespect, knowing that they could get away with murder in her presence. Books were being singed in the flames underneath cauldrons, a wall of noise breaking out as a fight erupted between the two warring friendship groups in the year, curses and hexes being thrown in all directions.

A tall witch dressed in black materialised at the front of the class, her arms folded in a business-like manner across her chest. She raised her casting fingers without even bothering with a friendly morning greeting and a bolt of orange light hit the squabbling girls, dragging them apart and returning them to their wooden stools in one swift movement.

"WILL YOU BE QUIET!" her raised tones rang through the room, silencing any chatter in a spilt second. The shocked faces staring back at her were enough to reassure her that her new attitude had not gone unnoticed.

"Another inappropriate word from any of you during the course of this lesson, and the entire class will spend their lunch-breaks for the next week writing up "I will not spend my time engaging in unruly and undignified behaviour" ten thousand times in your neatest handwriting. Do you understand?" her low tones raked through the room, a dangerous quality attached to them that made pupils certain that she would carry out her threat to the letter if she was disobeyed any further.

"Yes Miss Hardbroom" came the subdued reply.

"Good!" she smiled brightly, "We shall now have a test on the last unit to see if you have understood fully all of the potion recipes that we have covered in the last three weeks- put that book away at once Estella Fey!" She vanished the book that the pupil had secreted under her desk without even breaking her speech.

She stood, imposing her message upon them, the new values that she would adopt for the rest of her teaching career at Cackles.

This woman was not to be disrespected.


End file.
